[His brow furrows, eyes still fixed on the floor. It hasn't been a forgettable year in the least, but people do adapt and adjust; remember and forget. Just as Dojima still remembers being called 'Dojima-san' by this person, rather than the distant, barricading detective. It reminds him that maybe this whole small talk business is just silly, maybe a waste of time, maybe better forgotten. But there's more he wants to know - not on the level of detective to criminal, but partner to (ex-)partner. Dojima watches as the last bit of ashes fall from the cigarette to the table, like the last of sand in an hourglass. Looks like it won't be this time. Dojima leans off the table, glancing at his watch subconsciously. Sixteen minutes.]
no subject
Don't smoke 'em all in one day, yeah?